Guitar Center Fell In Love With A Drummer

The Guitar Center’s 2009 Championship Drum Off’s moved this year to the Wiltern and that wasn’t the only moving on up they did. The contest with the $25,000 cash prize also featured a Tommy Lee headlined Bezerk spectacle, including performances by Max Weinberg (from both Bruce Springsteen and Conan O’Brien fame) playing in tandem with his son Jay, Chad Smith (RHCP), Matt Sorum (Guns & Roses), Sully Erna (Godsmack), Frank Zummo (Street Drum Corps) and more.

The top five contestants vied for the grand prize by performing a five minute set, judged by a panel of highly accomplished drum celebrities including Peter Erskine (Steely Dan), Taylor Hawkins (Foo Fighters), Drew Hester (Foo Fighters / Joe Walsh), Thomas Lang, Jason Sutter (Chris Cornell), Kenny Aronoff (John Mellencamp / Sessions Legend), John Tempesta (The Cult), Tony Royster Jr. (Jay-Z), Nisan Stewart (Jamie Foxx / 50 Cent) and Ray Luzier (Korn).

While the votes were tallied, the evening veered from touching:

Guitar Center  inducted drum icons Billy Cobham and John Bonham into Guitar Center’s Drum Legends  and then Jason Bonham drummed in time to footage of his dad, the legendary John Bonham of Led Zeppelin.

To the downright bizarre:

Tommy Lee chased around a midget who jumped out of a trash can while Sully Erna rappelled down the scaffolding keeping a beat…

It truly was the Ringling Bros of drummers, and the ringmaster, Stephen Perkins, kept pulling more and more acts out onstage.

I managed to wrangle some one on one time with Jason Bonham before his amazing performance, as well as Drum Off judge Kenny Aronoff, who had just finished playing the Kennedy Center Honors the week before, in tribute to Bruce Springsteen.

Both Jason and Kenny eschewed the dreaded drum solo, which was amusing considering the set up of the entire event. They both also stressed the importance of being in a band and of working together with other musicians. Hear that music people? Can’t we all just get along?

I also sat down with this year’s winner, Ramon Sampson.

19 year old South Africa native and Tennesse citizen, Sampson competed last year but came back again this year and grabbed the grand prize package worth more than $40,000.

Ramon, who started drumming at the age of one (total slacker, right?), says he’s first going to  buy himself some wheels, probably in his favorite color, lime green. Then he’s going to roll down the windows and play some Michael Jackson in tribute to one of his favorite artists.

You can check out my renegade video here:

Ramon’s winning performance can be viewed here. He’s pretty amazing:

Youth In Revolt – The Anti Ferris

Nike Sportswear and Flux kicked off the new year with a special advance screening of Miguel Arteta’s Youth in Revolt at The Montalbán Theater in Hollywood.

Based on the acclaimed novel by C.D. Payne, Youth in Revolt is the story of Nick Twisp (Michael Cera) – an awkward and precocious teen who prefers Sinatra and Fellini to punk and video games – who falls obsessively in love with the hyper intelligent Sheeni Saunders (Portia Doubleday) while on a family vacation.

This movie has been 17 years in the making, after a failed MTV series and many attempts to bring it to the big screen.
The character of Nick Twisp is a daunting one to bring from the page to the silver screen. He is epic. Sort of a Holden Caulfield armed with a copy of Mad Magazine, a copy of Playboy and a torch blower.

The book is side splittingly funny, juvenile, and coming in at 499 pages, nearly impossible to adapt into lightweight summer teen fare. My thought at once was please don’t do this and if you’re going to do this: Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.

Of course the casting would always be a huge problem, Where could one find a teen self possessed enough to play Nick Twisp: a nerdy, hyper intellectual who is capably of burning down the city of Berkeley but not of talking a teenage girl into having sex with him? It takes a special kind of actor to have the charisma and charm to be the anti Ferris Bueller – to have the entire city chasing your infamous ass down.

Perhaps that is what the decade plus delay was about…enter Michael Cera.

A guy who excels at the teen dweeb deadpan with charm and aplomb.  But in taking on Twisp, Cera not only gets the familiar through line of ankling his virginity, but this time he gets to try rebel and felon on for size and adds split personality on for size, with his smooth talking, chain smoking tight white chino wearing persona, Francois, who appears mid-film.

Whittling down a massive book with a cult following is a big undertaking so it’s no surprise that it would take someone like Migel Arteta – a man who very carefully chooses his projects (Star Maps, The Good Girl) and leans towards the bizarre and controversial (Chuck and Buck) to tackle Twisp. I was surprised at how Arteta managed to cut massive amounts of the zany story line, major characters (a sister Joannie, the jock like partner in crime Fuzzy De Falco) and still somehow move the plot forward. Of course it did seem like many of these juicy characters were little more than blips on the screen – Ray Liotta’s psychotic cop Lance who in the book plays a cat and mouse game with Nick,  is barely involved here. And, I am biased, but I do think Zach Galifiankis’ swindling Jerry is much too short lived.

Also, Nick’s preppy arch nemesis Trent Preston only appears as a Deus Ex Machina in tennis whites, sort of disappointing.

But what Arteta does capture is CD Payne’s writing style and rhythm, which are the heart of the book and the heart of Nick Twisp. To take a miserable teenager, make him ‘Be Bad’ and plunk him down amidst a gaggle of characters where he shines like a diamond of morality and still manage to engage the audience in a lot of fun, well then you’ve done justice to Payne’s work. Phew.

After heaving a sigh of relief that breezy fun justice was done to the novel, I was able to relax and partake in the festivities Flux had planned for the after party.

As Sheeni and Nick were fans of vinyl, and Sheeni had a penchant for Francoise and French culture (particularly Serge Gainsbourg) film guests were invited upstairs to the mezzanine which featured a live music performance by “Paris loves L.A.” featuring Adele Jacques. French actress and singer Jacques contributes a track to the Youth in Revolt Soundtrack.

As revelers enjoyed the soothing sounds and showed their Ugly American-ness by double fisting free Belvedere vodka drinks and pushing others to get more open bar treats. Dozens of Be Bad pins crunched under foot. The crowd, though not so youthful, was in full revolt, and determined to behave badly and out-do any Twispian maneuvers. In a town like Hollywood, I’m fully aware of the damage the average hipster is capable of, so I quickly made my exit. Safe with the knowledge that Payne’s book made it to the screen, I leave it to the drunken hiptards to ‘be bad’.

2010 – The Year in Review…In Advance

It started in September.

I got email after email from publications asking me for my ‘best of the year’ picks and ‘best of the decade’ choices. And then there was an onslaught online, on TV, on the radio, and in print…what’s left of print, that is.

‘Best of the…’ ‘Top Ten’, ‘Top Twenty’, ‘Top Fifty’… the ‘Top of the year’, the ‘Top of the Decade’…ad nauseum.

The year wasn’t even over and we were already rating the songs and films that have been created, comparing apples to oranges. Then it got weirder. Best tweets. Best viral videos. Best broken marriages. Best reality show melt downs. Best political failures. Best new babies born. Best real housewives you’ve never heard of.

If it happened on a grand scale, we can slap a number on it like a pig at the county fair and smugly call ourselves an expert…because that’s what a lot of us journalists, comedians, writers and bloggers are paid to do, right?

But then, suddenly, there were best of lists written by EVERYONE.  I’m glad to know that people all over are enjoying Miike Snow or Radiohead, but when butchers and bakers and candle stick makers are publishing their Best of 2009 lists, it kind of dilutes the magical lists of whatever the fuck Pitchfork or Spin puts out there. If Paste Magazine posts their fifth favorite movie is Amelie and then 20,000 other people tweet the same thing within five minutes, then does precious Paste even make a dent? No wonder magazines are dying.

And then there’s the question that I’ve been aching to ask. Who cares? Your close friends might. If you are a top critic, a few fellow editors might. If you mention something obscure you might earn some “oh yeah, I totally forgot that one!’ points.  If you can write something interesting about your favorites, then you are a gifted writer or comedian and your talents really should be used elsewhere…like on television. Seriously, TV really needs some better writers.

So what’s with all the list making? Must we constantly analyze our past pop culture? Can’t we just box it up and send it into space for other species or our descendants to discover? Can’t we move forward and create the new? The next?

Everyone is entitled to blog, tweet and have an opinion and social media has given everyone a voice. That is the wave of the future. So perhaps it means the death rattle of the ever present Best or Top lists. I mean, hasn’t VH1 beat the living  ‘I Love The’ hell out of it? I was actually assigned a best of list…and then eventually declined to do it. I removed myself from the rabble and decided to once again, look towards the future.

Strangely enough, a few days later, I was contacted out of the blue by Barb Powell, psychic to the stars. Barb doesn’t know me at all, but found my blog and asked if perhaps there wasn’t something we could work on together…like she he had read my mind or something.

Barb Powell is a psychic from Western Canada, who started with a small local client base but is now popular in Los Angeles, and has worked with the cast of shows such as The Ghost Whisperer, Haunting in Connecticut, Brothers and Sisters and The Mentalist…can she predict that Simon Baker and I are meant for each other?

Barb works in a very specific way – she doesn’t need a client to ask a lot of questions, because she gives answers to questions you haven’t even asked. Barb offered to do a mini reading on me and without knowing a thing about me personally, nailed a specific health issue I had been dealing with. Color me impressed.

Before I could ask her questions about the future of music, movies and media,  she already knew what I was looking for. And then some.

Here’s a little bit of what you can expect for 2010:

Good news for people who like their music free…The big labels will continue to get it wrong and eventually cause a big crash!

I think they will get it wrong by pouring money into stopping piracy and legal matters instead of focusing where they should perhaps use subscription type of music channels, etc in order to download.  I think in the next year to two years we will see a crash and they will then HAVE to re-organize.  However I believe that someone will come in and build up independent artists who are good of course but where there is a new way of doing things by subscribing to a site and downloading whatever, whenever they want.  This would be outside the actual music industry or RIAA and how they do things.  In another word..music will be free.

Who will this Indie Robin Hood be? That is unclear. But so far the job is available, so Silverlakers and Williamsburgers apply within!

As far as the Indie film world, Barb sees strides for filmmakers who’s pockets aren’t lined with Avatar type dollars.

We will see an increase with independent films, for sure, what with some of the most popular and cheaper films that have become a success.

Good news for the new legion of Wes Anderson types out there who want to launch their own Bottle Rocket. But they will still have to battle Big Hollywood. However with 2010 studio offerings like Hot Tub Time Machine, it might not be hard for up and comers to win at the box office and beat the majors.

Sigh. Hot Tub Time Machine. Really John Cusack? Next time you’re thinking of doing a movie like this, let me know. I’ll come stand outside your window with a boom box playing a list of reasons of why you will soon be Rob Schneider if you don’t stop this nonsense.

On the topic of music mediocrity, Barb reports:

We will see some upset for the Nickelback lead singer…the band does well but we will see a fall out later part of 2010 due to addictions….but will bounce back in 2011 for an awesome comeback record.

I will wait with baited breath for more from them…people are ready to listen to more pop songs sung by the weird art school girl, whose gender was the biggest mystery of 2009. And her hate spewing internet Svengali will get a reality show – perhaps his crowning glory?

Lots of great things for Lady Gaga career in 2010 including a TV special. Perez Hilton (famed blogger) will have his own reality show although health will become an issue.

Poor Perez. I’m sure many will come to his bedside to wish him well. After GLAAD came down hard on Perez (himself gay) in ’09 for his anti-gay slurs and his trash talk, perhaps he’ll change his ways?

I’m not holding my breath. I wonder what Perez will draw on Miley’s face when it’s reported she is with child?

More news for the Miley Cyrus fans and watchers.  There will be pregnancy rumors once again and they will turn out to be true in 2010.

Another blight on the small screen will be more Sarah Palin. Not sure this is a prediction as much as most of America unable to stop her PR steamroller, but nonetheless it’s apparently about to happen, times eleventy. Just a warning in case you want to cancel your cable subscription in advance.

We will see more of Sarah Palin on TV in late 2010 early 2011…talk show.

Sarah Palin talk show. I just threw up in my mouth. What will her show’s ‘book club’ feature, aside from her own book? Pop ups?

Barb has predicted a lot of celebrity deaths, both expected and scarily unexpected. I’ve chosen not to list them all, but one, I thought I could safely mention without any tears being shed…

This isn’t a Hollywood prediction but interesting just the same…Charles Manson will die.

Maybe this will clear the way for Roman Polanski to return to the US? And perhaps maybe many of the grizzly man indie guitarists of LA will stop emulating his long bearded look and his quest for a harem? It didn’t work out well for Charlie, guys…

Two major highlights Barb has predicted for 2010 in the media, one uplifting, one disconcerting.

Major media involving China/Japan but more so China in regards to war.

War with China is scary…and 24 hour news coverage by cable news outlets is outright terrifying. Hopefully both diplomacy and real journalism will prevail.

Singers/Actors unite for the environment to promote saving the ocean and rain forest.

If we ever needed a new Geldof (Bob, not Peaches.) to step up and create a new World Aid, the time is now.

French/American company The Hours recently started the Tck Tck Tck campagin to save the environment and there are many others.

Now is the time to unite in this cause. I, for one, would be proud to be a part of this.

Barb has made many other predictions about celebrity career triumphs and failures and marriages and divorces. Seems like it’s going to be a chock filled year. She’s even said I’m going to go against type and get cast in a serious acting role:

There will be an ongoing role in a series that reminds me of CSI or Law & Order type of show where it seems you play a detective or bad ass type of woman who gets the bad bad people.

I’m so looking forward to kicking some bad, bad ass!

So what’s your biggest prediction for 2010?

Follow both Barb and me on Twitter at @aliontheair and @mediumBarbP  and tweet us your top 2010 prediction with the hashtags #aliontheair #barbpowell.

My favorite answer will win a free reading with Barb!

Until then, have a great and list free New Year!

A Very Raging Christmas – Crap Music Is Over, If You Want It

In a land far, far away, called Great Britain a yearly war wages every winter. In this magical Narnian Isle, music is still a viable commodity taken very seriously. Their denizens actually record new holiday songs every season in the hopes of having the top Christmas single of the year.

We cynics across the pond are fine to do with the recycled, rehashed songbooks – over the river and through the wood, decking the halls and all that. Why would you need MORE freaking Christmas? A trip outside for a few hours on Black Friday and we’re drowning in so much Christmas it’s enough to move to the Aboriginal outback.

But England doesn’t mess around. Music and Christmas are a very serious thing. I mean, they still have music programming on TV, AND the government pays for some of it. Can you imagine if our government gave PBS money to make old school MTV styled programming? I might actually still want to live here.

Yes, England gets downright fervent about music, specifically the ‘single’. Especially when it comes to the OZ like machinery of Simon Cowell and company, who pump out yearly soft rock balladeers with their contest shows like Pop Idol and X Factor.  Yes, we have our American Idol, but it pales in comparison to the juggernaut that X Factor brings to the UK every year.

I was treated to the wonders of X Factor this October when I was staying in London. I politely watched with some fervent friends over Sunday roast and found myself drawn in by a bigger, cattier, more sordid and maudlin type of idol where the judges mentor the contestants, take sides and cut each other down so furiously I’m surprised they’re not allowed swords onstage. I have to admit I did get a little hooked. OK, a lot. It wasn’t the music, which was mostly dreadful. It was the huge soppy spectacle of it.

X Factor Judges

But truly music is the loser in this scenario, if it’s nothing more than a soapbox stump for Rhianna or Janet to pimp their new album, in between green faced kids being forced to sing George Michael covers. The winner of this contest releases a single and that song, most likely, goes on to be the Christmas single winner, no doubt to be over played through out the holiday season and beyond, knocking struggling bands off the charts and out of our memories as the new year chimes in.

This year’s X Factor winner, pie eyed Joe McElderry is an 18 year old Geordie accented charmer with a lilting, soaring voice who is as sweet as a Disney cartoon heroine. Blech. They even chose for his first single, the Christmas single in question, to be ‘The Climb’, a Miley Cyrus cover. Jesus. Come on, England! Throw some tea overboard!

Well, Jon Morter for this revolting enough to do something.  Sick of the slick promotional big label machine and the ‘crap’ it pumps out, he decided to take a stand and protest by simply using social media. Jon made a Facebook page called RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE FOR CHRISTMAS NO.1. On the page he asked the fans to buy his favorite band’s 1994 single, Killing In The Name Of, instead of X Factor Joe McElderry’s new Cyrus single “The Climb”.

The kid, Joe McElderry, seems nice enough – benign in a musical theater, syrupy sweet kind of way. He wasn’t even my choice to win the thing – I would have gone with the song and dance man Olly Murs, if I were holding a UK green card, but there I go, tipping my hand as someone who has seen enough of the show to care.

The fact is, there has always been pop music that was put together in a board room. Girl groups formed in the offices of the Brill Building weren’t exactly an organic creative process but still some of the best songs ever sung.

So some pop music can’t be denied, even if the singer didn’t pen the song themselves…but the pervasive problem today, it seems, is the onslaught of boy bands and mall makeovers done on any kid with half a voice who are put on diet pills and thrust into the spot light like Three Octave Barbie.  In a month their CD, filled with tuneless drivel, is overstocked at Walmart and outselling the grassroots band that actually writes music.

If you throw money and PR at a turd, the public will spend money on it. Sheeple are Sheeple, as the D Mode song goes…and the loser is not only the smaller musician out there, but ultimately the music listening public.

Enter Rage Against The Machine. Now they were invited to the party, unbeknownst to them, not because they are a small unknown indie rock band. No, they are a huge successful act on Sony, the very same Goliath label that Cowell and McElderry call home. But RATM started from humble beginnings and won each of their hundreds of thousands of fans, one by one. Not from a television show contest, but by playing small gigs and then larger ones. By touring relentlessly. By making music. And yes, by being political loud mouths and standing up for the little guy.

In an interview with UK paper The Sun, RATM frontman Tom Morello stated: “It is a historic campaign to save the UK pop charts from the abyss of bland mediocrity and we’re 100 per cent behind it. It’s really amazing and completely a grassroots uprising. It’s not like the band put this forward, it was the people. I found out about it when some friends of mine from the UK texted me.”

As the race between the two tightened, things got more heated. And weirder. Cowell kept accusing Rage of being bullies. Then the Facebook page went down and suddenly thousands of fans were inexplicably lost. And of course there were rumblings that this was all just an underground ploy of Sony executives to drive up sales of both singles – a major payday for Sony either way.

However, to show that it wasn’t a Sony plot, Morello promised that the band would reunite and play a free concert for London fans if they were to win the number one spot. This earned him some scorn and harsh words from X Factor kingpin Simon Cowell, and fellow X Factor judge Cheryl Cole, a former member of all girl group Girls Aloud, who was Mc Elderry’s mentor on the show. Cheryl stated “If that song, or should I say campaign, by an American group is our Christmas Number 1, I’ll be gutted for Joe and our charts.”

Cheryl Cole and Joe McElderry on X Factor

Morello flattened Cowell and Cole’s jingoistic pleas for support of Geordie Joe.

“The X Factor song was written by a cabal of highly paid professional songwriters and was already made a hit by a pre-teen artists from the United States. That’s nothing I would feel too proud about hoisting the flag up on.”

“The X Factor suits have been pulling out every dirty trick in the book to get their single to No 1. They’ve been pressuring the big retail stores over the price of the single and there were some shenanigans that happened with the Facebook page where it went down mysteriously on the second day.

“Some of the things they are doing seem almost desperate and that’s because they’re afraid of the people.”

As the deadline neared for the tally, Joe was in the lead by a narrow margin. Tom Morello took to twitter and urged his online fans to download on itunes and help push Rage over the edge. They upped the ante by stating that they would be donating their proceeds from their Christmas single to charity. No Sony payout for the people who helped put Rage in the number one spot.

It looked as if Joe had the Xmas single sewed up, but in a Christmas miracle come from behind victory, the American revolutionaries toppled Cowell’s teen idol and took the number one spot. Davey had conquered Goliath!

Of course Cowell was ‘gutted’ for his protege, McElderry, but was gracious enough to concede the spot to a song with well over fifteen ‘fuck you’ s laden in the lyrics. Well done. Cowell supposedly even offered Jon Morter a job doing marketing for his music label, though that might just have been the PR equivalent of licking his wounds.

Whether or not you think that this contest of wills will actually change the stranglehold that Cowell and X Factor has on music, the fact is that this small group on Facebook has managed to raise 83,000 pounds (approximately $132,700) for the charity, Shelter, they’ve helped to break  two UK chart sales records…and it’s made music history and social media history.

It’s also an example that we do not have to sit idly by and listen to crap. Crap music is over, if you want it. If you don’t want it, turn it off. If you hate the television you keep seeing, turn it off. Or make your own. Vote with your dollar, your time and your energy. If you don’t like what is out there. DO NOT give it your time or energy. “I am listening to it cause it’s on” is no longer a viable option as we enter 2010 a supposed enlightened era. If you don’t like it, do something. If you can’t create an alternative, then at least turn it off.

When asked if they’d attempt to overthrow the Christmas No. 1 again next year, Jon and his team admit that it probably wouldn’t work again nor would they want it to. But they are most proud of the fact that they were able to motivate people to take a stand against mediocrity and change something in pop culture history.

On top of that, raising money for a good cause and making friends with their favorite band of all time…well that’s just part of the best Christmas gift ever.

Heath Ledger’s Last Trip Through The Looking Glass In The Imaginarium Of Dr. Parnassus

As another great installment of the CINEMA TUESDAYS, Flux and Nike Sportswear at the Montalban Theater held an exclusive VIP benefit screening of filmmaker Terry Gilliam’s The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. The event served as a benefit for the Australians in Film Heath Ledger Scholarship in honor of the late actor.

As people gathered in frigid LA temperatures and huddled around complimentary boxes of Aussie fave Tim Tam cookies and warm espressos, the Australians In Film committee announced that it was donating the evening’s proceeds to the scholarship. A panel of judges will be determining who will be awarded the scholarship, including one of the film’s stars and Ledger’s friend, Jude Law. The movie hadn’t even begun and handkerchiefs were dabbing at swollen eyes.

Jude Law as Tony #2

I was excited to see a film by one of our most daring and dazzling filmmakers and from a man who has had every possible production nightmare beset him. Lets not forget, his opus film The Man Who Killed Don Quixote was plagued by so many problems – including a natural disaster- that the movie was shut down.  It eventually became the topic for the documentary Lost In LaMancha – a truly chilling film that keeps even the most adept filmmaker awake many sleepless nights. So for Gilliam to pull this film off in the face of such a tragedy is already a true tribute to Ledger and to grit, determination and the creative spirit.

The movie follows an immortal man, Dr. Parnassus, who travels in an old dilapidated circus wagon, trying to entertain the people of contemporary London with his vaudevillian stories. His hidden agenda is to also save a few souls along the way, in order to repay a bet he lost with the devil. Dr. Parnassus is saddled with his immortality – a storyteller and showman who has become obsolete, as no one wants to hear his stories anymore. His antiquated Punch And Judy styled stage cannot compete with London’s bright lights and dazzling technology. Dr. Gilliam err, I mean Parnassus, knows this and feels lost in a world where he will never grow old but will never be new.

Veteran stage actor, Christopher Plummer is great as the fallen monk, Parnassus, bending to all the mortal pressures of drink and wagers. Plummer is joined by his traveling gypsy companions: model Lily Cole, adequate as his fiery red head daughter and stunning in the gypsy meets fleet street costumes. Verne Troyer is cast as the Doctor’s voice of reason – never thought I’d type that sentence. Andrew Garfield almost steals scenes from the veteran matinee idols he is pitted agaisnt as the barker, Anton. Tom Waits chews up the scenery as the devil in Joel-Grey-Cabaret clothing, Mr. Nick. And there is quite a lot of scenery to chew in a Gilliam film.

Tom Waits as Mr. Nick

But the elephant in the room is the role of Tony. Heath Ledger’s last role in The Imaginarium Of Dr. Parnassus is infamously incomplete. That he had three of the world’s leading actors fill in to bring his role to fruition is a testament to what a great actor he was and what a great hole he has left behind.

In fact, though the film is chock full of fantasty, whimsy, scenery and ideas (oh you could trip over the grand ideas), the film seems lonely when Ledger isn’t on screen. Ledger’s first appearance in the film as Tony Liar, is hanging from his neck from a London bridge, an auspicious start to a movie that was almost never finished. It is a shocking fist glimpse of the actor and one that takes your breath away.

Heath Ledger as Tony

Ledger’s Tony Liar character, based partially on Tony Blair and all his duplicity, is a millionaire who raises money for a children’s charity and is ultimately exposed as a fraud. Interesting that Ledger chose this role, as he was always felt fraudulent in the Hollywood spotlight. Eschewing the superstar role, Heath preferred to disappear in a role and simply be an actor. Even if he was greater at it than he ever gave himself credit for.

The Imaginarium in question is a sideshow mirror, which when paying customers pass (or are pushed through it) are transported into a fantasy world which reveals their deepest desires. For a small child it is a giant set of a Candy Land video game. For a rich matron, it is a gondoliered trip down a Nile filled with giant Blahniks and Faberge eggs. Of course there is a battle for the person’s soul at the end of this journey. Dr. Parnassus and Mr. Nick both wrestle for the person to choose the right path. Tony often accompanies these souls and attempts to guide them correctly, sort of as a sexy river Styx escort. As it is each individual’s fantasy and imagination, Tony appears different to each of them. This is how Gilliam was able to solve his leading man crisis.

After Ledger’s death, three box office heart-throbs stepped up and stepped in for Ledger, filming the fantasy sequences in Gilliam’s re-imagined imaginarium scenes. For one woman, her Tony lothario was a lusty Johnny Depp. For another, it was Jude Law climbing the ladder of success, and for Lily Cole’s Valentina, her rascally Tony was Colin Farrell in rare bad boy form.

It is a testament to both Gilliam’s film making and Heath’s reputation to bring all of these people together to create one immense Tony Liar. Unfortunately neither Depp, Law, nor Farrell, while all three of them fun to watch and immensely charming, have the depth that Ledger had.

This Gilliam film is a grand and bright acid trip in the truest sense – there are strands of Munchausen, Time Bandits, and my favorite Terry film, The Fisher King, but there are also nods to classics like Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, King Lear, and of course the great Faustian bargain. Each player in this pantomime has one. Money or love? Life or death? Good or evil? The very same things that plague us daily as we go through our lives, Gilliam plays out for us on this traveling stage that his characters cart around modern London.

It begs the question:

How many of us cart around these questions with us everyday, and how many wrestle with it until it kills us?

It’s hard not to become overly philosophical while watching Heath’s character wrestle for his life when the world knows that he lost that battle a year ago. I was strangely hit hard by the death of Heath Ledger – someone I didn’t know at all.

I don’t normally emote on the passing of a celebrity -  someone I’ve never met, but as the credits rolled on this film, I found myself moved to tears. Maybe, as a filmmaker, I was just so relieved that the film got finished. Perhaps as a performer they were tears of frustration and loss of/for Ledger.

I suppose I felt a connection to someone who was such a strong life force, who attacked his work with conviction and passion. I also can identify with wrestling with insomnia and the seeping black moods that accompany the creative process. The fact that Heath achieved great success in his career is something to admire. But the fact that he pushed himself beyond that and strove to be a better actor, a better artist than what was really required of him – that is where my heart goes out to him. It guts me that this process was part of what led to his demise.

That this film is about a man who has sold his soul for eternal life is eerily prescient. Heath Ledger’s star will live on forever. I, for one, would rather have him among us, living in obscurity.

If you’d like to donate to the Heath Ledger foundation, please visit: http://www.australiansinfilm.org

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus opens in major cities on December 25th.

Sarah Palin’s Heavy Metal Parking Lot

I really hesitate to open this can of worms because I could rail for HOURS on the sheer stupidity of many of my fellow countrymen who, much like lemmings, will blindly follow a flag waving harpy who has NO ideas and NO real discernible policy, because she is ‘realness’ and for ‘freedom’, ‘conservativeness’, and ‘stuff’.   At first I laughed this woman off, who luckily sank the presidential bid of Mr. McCain. But I realize that this woman is dangerous in that she is charming, ambitious and stupid.

Now, I realize that not all conservatives are stupid. I may not agree with them, but I wouldn’t say they are stupid. However, these people lining up to buy her book? OM MY KRISHNA!!! Did central casting feed these people lines? INCREDIBLE!!!

Here is a rather brilliant piece which rather speaks for itself. Mind you, there is no trickery involved here. Ya can’t blame Katie Couric for any tough questions. This man just asked these people why they liked Sarah Palin, why they’d vote for her, and why they though she’d make a good president. Pretty simple right?

Well, ok, not everyone is super smart. And not everyone understands foreign policy. Or domestic policy. Or policy for the people not from America, too. Not everyone went to a G-dblessed fancy college or can read a newspaper. Heck, they are so expensive, and the media lies, so it’s hard to really know what’s going on with the economy. Or health care. Or the economy. Or Obama’s birth certificate.

It’s times like this when I really cringe at technology and YouTube and the thought of the internet carrying this far and wide across the globe. Sorry, world.

So, it’s really not these people’s fault that they resemble the kids of Heavy Metal Parking Lot as my fellow comic cattle prod, Harmon Leon, has brilliantly pointed out. I personally think it’s a bit insulting to metal fans, who at least have taste, but I digress. Here is a mash-up between the above footage and the Heavy Metal Parking Lot film that Harmon put together.

Spooky, innit?

I’m beginning to think that the country deserves Sarah Palin. At least the country of Ohio does.

Getting It On & Taking It Off – Sunset Strip Music Festival 2009

The crazy train has left the station…and either you were on it or you’ll have to wait until next year’s local trip.

The Sunset Strip, long a place where spandex covered dinosaurs crawled between the Rainbow and the Whiskey has had a resurgence, mostly due to Roxy owner Nic Adler’s social media make over experiment. His crazy communist manifesto of community based music and entertainment has created an alliance with the Viper Room, the Andaz Hotel, The Comedy Store and a few other hot spots. Their online presence,  from tweet crawls to ticket twofer giveaways, has lured hipsters back to the place where rock music once reigned. The fact that the Sunset Strip has gotten it’s own music festival, now in it’s second year, shows that the Strip’s death rattle has reversed course and the infamous piece of WeHo history begun a little rock renaissance. And this year’s renaissance faire got the go ahead to shut down the boulevard to honor the Prince of Darkness himself, Ozzy Osbourne.

The festival kicked off with a big tribute to Ozzy at the House of Blues, which funnily enough for a frenzy of social media mavens, seemed to be a twitter dead zone. The night was MC’ed by Billy Morrison who was most memorable for his cheekbones which could cut glass. There was a pre-taped congrats from Lemmy…uh, what, he couldn’t stumble from the Rainbow-only mere yards up the strip-to say it in person?

Brought up to roast/honor Ozzy were comedian Jim Norton, who showed a slide show of mainly photos of himself with famous people (yawn). Then followed a spirited anecdote from Henry Rollins about underestimating the roar of an Ozzy crowd. Next up was an unfathomable speech of nonsense from Tommy Lee about drinking his own urine (Ugh, Tommy). Nothing much interesting from Slash – just a tale of  listening to Iron Man on acid.  Slash, we really want you to lead us here. You are positioning yourself as a rock hero and guitar legend. Let’s work on the public speaking charisma, dude. If you’re going to wear the Monopoly top hat, then let’s act like the mayor of Guitarville, mkay?

And theeeeen what followed, what I was really curiously waiting for, a few quips from Billy Bob Thornton.

Now Billy Bob was an interesting choice for a few reasons…one: I was hoping he’d do the whole speech in his Sling Blade voice and then he and Ozzy could have an unintelligible-off.  Two: Now being known as a ‘musician’,  I am obsessed with him wanting to give any kind of speech after he completely melted down on a CBC radio show. If there was ever an awkward music interview, Billy Bob takes the cake. I have a sick, twisted desire to interview him and let the train derail and then sort through the wreckage. Oh please, pr gods.

Though I do have to give him credit for mentioning Sharon. He was the only one to say that if we were all honoring Ozzy, we also had to honor the woman who made Ozzy possible. Never would have pegged you for a feminist, Mr. Thornton, but kudos and a plate of french fried potaters to you, sir.

The plaque ceremony and photo op with a quick “I love you all!” from Ozzy, was followed by a performance from Camp Freddy.  I couldn’t help thinking that for Ozzy, this must be like watching a bunch of his friends do karaoke. Sober.

With a couple fun softball performances from Donovan Leitch and some hot rocking blasts from best Freddy member Franky Perez, they bring out Mark fucking McGrath from Sugar Ray. Yeah, the host of that cheeze wiz entertainment show. Either Mark is going grey, or he overdid it on the frosted tips just for this occasion. Doesn’t he have some McG beach blanket music video shoot to go host? He pointed up to Ozzy in the balcony and said “Ozzy, my brother, this goes out to you from Newport Beach!” And then he began to butcher ‘Cat Scratch Fever’. It’s at that point I had to leave. Come to think of it, the balcony seats emptied out pretty quickly too. CAMP FREDDY FAIL.

Friday was reserved for the big Andaz Hotel party and the House of Blues Rock N Roll wine tasting event. I was lucky enough to be staying at the Andaz, which is quite plush since it’s remake, but still underneath has a bit of that riot house/Hyatt house vibe.

With guests like Ozzy staying there too, it had to still have that edge under all the class. The Virgin America/Andaz party boasted a red carpet event up by the rooftop pool with the promise of a few performances, including one by Chris Cornell who had been strangely left off all the set list time announcements. (Was Cornell forced from the festival by the Osbourne train or did he bow out on his own accord?) Although Chris made an appearance to shake some hands and pose for pictures, he didn’t perform, which prompted me to put forth divorce proceedings. The gorgeous hotel view skyline and ample cocktails made for a fun evening, even when an Aussie actor ambushed my camera techniques and turned the tables on me…

The day of the festival was bright and sunny with everyone in hot anticipation for Ozzy’s big performance. The music kicked off with spirited performances from The Donnas and Fishbone.

credit: eric voake

As the afternoon wore on and clothes were stripped off, Shiny Toy Guns played a very low key quiet set…(did they think they were playing for KCRW?) and Korn played angry head banging anthems proving that they lost one too many games of dungeons and dragons when they were kids. I skipped festival favorites Nico Vega to catch Brooklyn’s best, Earl Greyhound, whose new material shows a maturity yet they still know how to kick out the jams.

At last, I settled with my VIP vetted friends on the Bank of America parking lot roof and awaited the crazy train. Ozzy took the stage in front of a mass of all ages – toddlers to senior citizens. And hie performance was pleasing to all. Despite lobbing the f word here and there and hosing people down with foam, it was essentially a good, clean, tame Ozzy (minus Harriet) show. As Thornton had said earlier “Who says the Prince of Darkness can’t be a nice guy?”.

credit: Eric Voake

Here’s some choice moments and interviews with The Donnas, Iglu & Hartly, Norwood of Fishbone and The Mashup Brothers:

People Who Died 2009 – Punk Poet Jim Carroll Passes

Jim Carroll, punk poet and rock laureate of the Bowery, is dead.

I am truly upset, though not entirely surprised. With his hard way of living on sex, drugs and rock and roll, 60 does seem like a respectable age. However, he was a talented writer and poet. Many people know his high school notebooks were published as The Basketball Diaries, which was turned into a movie, starring Leo DiCaprio.

He was an all star athlete growing up. He also worked for Andy Warhol and eventually ended up managing the Warhol Theater. He started his rock group, The Jim Carroll Band, at the encouragement of Patti Smith. PATTI SMITH! Can you imagine her encouraging anything?

Carroll has also collaborated with musicians Lou Reed , Blue Öyster Cult, Boz Scaggs , Ray Manzarek of The Doors , Pearl Jam, Rancid and Lenny Kaye.

I used to play the mp3 of ‘People Who Died’ all the time on my radio show, Under The Influence, and on my show on Sirius’ DIY Radio on Distortion. It was a punk classic. I played it so frequently that my old boyfriend decided I needed to have Jim Carroll on pristine vinyl.

One day he came home from a record swap meet with a Jim Carroll record for me. I excitedly took it out of the paper bag and stared at an image of a hippie-styled folk singer with his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, swirls of long, curly brown hair falling around his shoulders, as he lazily reclined in a grassy field.

“This isn’t my Jim Carroll.” I said, disappointed.  “I don’t know what this is.”

“Sure it is. Jim Carroll. Says it right there.” He said.

“Jim Carroll has red hair and is a pale, ex-heroin addict from the Bowery. This guy…should be in Pippin. It’s not Jim Carroll.”

“Yes it is!” My boyfriend said, putting it on the turn table. A folky, Celtic song that would make Jethro Tull hang up his purple jester boots began to play in the living room. “See? Jim Carroll!”

I still remember that proud look on his face deflating, as a flute section chimed in. Even he knew that bands Patti Smith hand picks to groom to play at CBGBs don’t have wind sections. He had found a folkie Jim of the same name. How could he have made such a huge blunder? One look at the album cover would tell you this Monterey Pop looking dude had never been on the horse, unless it was atop a steed during a Stonehenge building re-enactment. And he certainly wasn’t The Jim Carroll who was lauded by William S. Burroughs and Lou Reed.

Oh, well. He got points for trying, I guess…but, really.

I’m not sure what happened to the other record. I think my ex actually liked it and probably claimed it in the divorce. I continue to listen to my preferred Jim.

There was only one Jim Carroll for me.

Rest In Peace.

(obit below)

Jim Carroll, Poet and Punk Rocker, Is Dead

By The New York Times

Jim Carroll, the poet and punk rocker in the outlaw tradition of Rimbaud and Burroughs who chronicled his wild youth in “The Basketball Diaries,” died Friday at his home in Manhattan. He was 60.

The cause was a heart attack, said Rosemary Carroll, his former wife.

As a teenage basketball star in the 1960s at Trinity, an elite private school on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Mr. Carroll led a chaotic life that combined sports, drugs and poetry. This highly unusual combination lent a lurid appeal to “The Basketball Diaries,” the journal he kept during high school and published in 1978, by which time his poetry had already won him a cult reputation as the new Bob Dylan.

Sunset and Vines – Rock ‘n Roll Wine Uncorks At The Sunset Strip Music Festival

Rock has a reputation for being a beer and whiskey kinda night. OK, maybe a rum and coke, then a shot of tequila, then eleventy beers kinda night. But somewhere along the way, I traded in my plastic tumbler for a wine glass. If I drink much at all, I strictly drink wine.

It seems it’d be an uneven match, navigating the pogoing crowds with a refined glass of pinot noir. Well, one less reason to stand in the mosh pit, I suppose. My drink often brings scowls or claims of “That’s a big glass of stain you’re carrying around.” Better to stand safe and sound in VIP with, my dear.  Sure, My libation choice may have made me stick out like a sore thumb, but not anymore. Now there is something that perfectly satisfies my Uptown girl tastes and my Downtown girl edge: Rock ‘N Roll Wine.

Founded by Sommelier Chris Hammond and business partner Sonny Barton, Rock ‘n Roll Wine is a wine events company dedicated to revolutionizing the way people perceive, and enjoy wine. Rock ‘n Roll Wine produces monthly wine events in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Ann Arbor, in addition to making their own music-themed line of wines.

I’ve been to events they’ve had tastings at before. In fact, they were doling out delicious vino at a Swinghouse Studios event. It was so nice to go to a rock party and not be shoved a monster energy drink. I even had a choice between The Grotto, a California red blend with grenache, syrah, cab and a dash of Zin:

or a white muscat, roussanne, chardonnay blend called Reggae Rhapsody:

The company does pairings…that is, music and wine pairings. They suggest that MGMT might be a good listening choice while sipping some Grotto while Jack Johnson would be a more fitting way to enjoy a glass of Reggae Rhapsody. Beach side, of course. OK, neither of those overplayed KROQ artists are my cup of tea, or wine as it were…I’m still waiting for the wines that would be good for breaking out my Gang of Four or Neu! albums, but, hey, baby steps…

Along with the music pairing idea, the company often showcases the wine while artists play onstage nearby. They’ve done events with big artists such as Dashboard Confessional, Everclear, Ingrid Michaelson, Pat Monahan of Train and Low vs. Diamond, as well as emerging artists. Jangly indie rock act? Rock N Roll wines will have a nice cabernet pour for that. Singer/Songwriter about to take the stage? A pinot grigio will be chilling near by, waiting to be sampled.

And in honor of the beer and whiskey soaked Sunset Strip doing it up with their own festival, Rock ‘n Roll Wine is going to class it up this weekend too. Or as Rock ‘n Roll wine tipplers say: “Rock Out With Your Cork Out”. The company will help kick off the festival by hosting their event at the House of Blues VIP club Foundation Room on Friday, September, 11 and feature singer/songwriter Cofféy. The wine party will feature 15 hand-selected, wines from around the world, including Rock ‘n Roll Wine’s Reggae Rhapsody and The Grotto.

To purchase your tickets in advance, visit http://www.rocknrollwine.com or call 702-240-3066. Rock ‘n Roll Wine is offering a discount to those going to the Sunset Strip Music Festival. Enter code: SSMF when ordering tickets online and receive $5 OFF addmission.

I’ll be there, sampling the wines and the rock, which to me, seem the perfect combination. If I am going to rock out on the strip this weekend, it will most definitely be with my cork out.

Wolfmother Serves Epicenter Festival A Cosmic Egg, Sunny Side Up

The host hazy and dusty race tracks are not the normal habitat of wolves. No, I picture wolves living in the misty mountain hops of vampire infested forests up in Northern America. But I wasn’t interested in spotting your average wolves. I was jonesing to see the kind of hard rock wolves who are native to Australia’s open plains. Wolfmother. They will do just fine in Pomona’s Fairplex.

I kidnapped my British friend, Som, and we headed south, outside the comfortable political and social strata of Los Angeles county. for KROQ’s Epicenter Music Festival. This being the inaugural year, they nabbed headliners Tool, Linkin Park and Alice In Chains but upon arriving, it seems that not even metal/grunge/rock juggernauts could overpower an economy on life support. Of course there are always those with disposable incomes, or meth labs in their basements…

As the backstage area slowly filled with Monster energy drink abusers of all types, the gifting suite filled up with ear plug hawkers and a laser tag course (with air rifles) was constructed in the massive media/artist building. I was quickly and succinctly shot in the face by a man in a Return Of The Jedi shirt, who was on a laser shooting spree while carrying on a cell phone conversation. C’est la Pomona vie.

The dusty field slowly became dotted with barrel-chested men in black Tool shirts, Street Sweeper Social club were adequately received, save for a few boos lobbed at them when they made political statements about sending troops overseas to fight in Iraq. You’re not in Los Angeles, anymore, Morello. Click your Hollywood heels three times. These men like their guns. And my guess is they don’t want you to kill their grandma with healthcare options.

As Som sought out his friends in the band, Hollywood Undead, I managed to spot an Australian red backed wolf, in fact the leader of his pack. Andrew Stockdale and I sat in the back of the artist tent, near where the caterers were inexplicably serving up tray after tray of hot brussel sprouts…By the way, really? Brussel sprouts? How is that a rock n roll food? Like Linkin Park is gonna come rolling through and say “Oooh I’m gonna eat the crap outta those brussell sprouts!” But I digress…

Andrew and I lounged amidst the stench of rockin’ brussel sprouts and talked about his return to sunny LA, where the band had recorded their latest release, Cosmic Egg. Andrew wholeheartedly admitted that the October 13th drop date was a nod to my birthday. He knows better to disappoint me. I mean, he does live in the land down under, but LA is like his second home so he does have to worry about making me unhappy. And how did he feel about being back in his second home?

“I do like LA. I’m interested in all the different sides to it.”

Yeah, we know. Our city can be just as bi-polar as it’s inhabitants.  That’s why we self medicate or meditate. And speaking of our namaste ways, what of the folklore that Cosmic Egg was named after some crazy yoga pose Andrew found himself in?

“Yeah, I think it was some resting pose, I’m not sure. It could have been the fetal pose. It must have been a tripped out instructor for sure.”

Tripped out sounds about right. But the Cosmic Egg is also a Hindu symbol often used to describe what we call the big bang theory. Did that factor into naming the album?

“I was interested in something I read about black holes being the end of time but now they think they’re the beginning. So it’s the end of the beginning. Or, it’s a new universe. If that makes sense. I didn’t even know all that was behind the name when I heard it. I just thought it sounded cool!”

With all the talk about the beginning and the end of the universe, and 2012 quickly approaching, anyone who is still following he Mayan calendar would be getting a little uneasy. So is this the end of days? Or is the cosmic egg cracking open something wonderful and new?

“When I first started writing songs, there were a lot of environmental issues in the press and we did shows for lower emissions. So, some of my songs are about the end of the world. You know: ‘The sun’s getting closer! We’ve got to change our ways!’ But I’m glad there are only one or two songs in there like that. One of the songs is called ‘The Violence Of The Sun’…there’s nothing hippie about it. It’s this burning mass of destruction. The environment is violent. Evolution is violent.”

As out discussion starts to get farther from mysticism: (star showers, wolves, and eggs) and further into science and the temperature of the earth’s core, Andrew gets uneasy and balks.

“I don’t want to be overly intellectual about it.” He pauses and adjusts his grey vest. “Not that I could be.” He adds, laughing.

Well, then it seems that he’s come to the right place. I don’t want to generalize but after watching Boots Riley and Tom Morello get booed, the field outside seems to be a giant mass of duh being stirred up with beer and energy cocktails. Since when did it become uncool to be smart? Was it dummy pimps, like Palin, who made the intellectual a dirty name?

“You don’t have to be dumb,” Andrew starts out carefully, “but I think it’s important to be instinctive and expressive and have passion. That goes a long way. And not being too strategic too. I saw this thing on Picasso. He wanted to get one of his mistresses pregnant so she’d be less intellectual and more in tune with life.”

Point taken.  Intellect and instinct both have their place. And I am hereby doubling up on condoms. Just in case.

As his band mates begin to shuffle by and get ready to head toward the stage, I ask Andrew if he’s seen It Might Get Loud. He hasn’t yet, but we talk about Jimmy Page and Wolfmother’s big date, opening for Led Zeppelin when they were inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. I point out that they are most likely the last band to ever do so and that the pressure would drive someone like me to drink.

“I sat in the backstage area and played that solo (Communication Breakdown) about fifty times before we walked out there. The bizarre thing is that James Brown was there to induct himself and he looked over at me and I gave him a little wave and he waved back. He died the next day. It’s amazing. It’s like he stayed alive just for that.”

Andrew kind of pauses, lost in the moment. A cameraman tripping over himself in front of us brings Andrew back to storytelling mode.

“Anyway we went and did Communication Breakdown. My monitor on the stage stopped working. The sound was blaring. I couldn’t hear a thing so I thought I just better go for it. It was the highest I have ever sung in my life!”

I start to laugh, picturing Andrew’s already soaring voice reaching the outer galaxies. I mention to him that whales and dolphins across the seas were with him in spirit that day. He made a legion of marine life into Zep fans that day. He smiles at the thought. I think I might have just inspired some album art work or posters for the next round.

Andrew gets ready to rock the Pomonians, but before he does, I ask him one last question. If the epicenter is the point of an underground explosion, what does he think is the next underground explosion about to hit our culture?

“Aw, I haven’t even had time to think about good stuff like that. Easy listening? Bossanova! Like Jose Feliciano? Really beautiful bossanova music.

I tell him he could start the trend today. He’s got a big audience awaiting him with rapt attention.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll bring out the nylon string today.”

If anyone could pull it off, it would be Stockdale, who has managed to bring back a classic rock sound without aping the genre. Luckily for those about to rock out at the Epicenter Festival, Andrew and the wolf crew kept it hard and loud. Mixing some new blue cheer tunes like California Queen and New Moon Rising, with old popular Zep twinged tunes like Woman, White Unicorn and Dimension, the audience roared with a whole lotta love.

credit: Firecloud

The Cosmic egg was cracked and the kids gobbled it up and were left wanting more.

May I suggest maybe releasing a b–sides rarities album? Something with a dolphin on the cover.